


Empty

by Miss_Fallen



Series: Witcher Fics [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia-centric, I hurt geralt a lot in this, I like some characters too much to let go, Will add tags as I go, but also depression, i'm only a little sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Fallen/pseuds/Miss_Fallen
Summary: They always said his heart was too soft. They were right.But maybe not anymore.
Series: Witcher Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878391
Kudos: 13





	1. The Call of the White Wolf is Broken and Alone

There are days where Geralt can't bring himself to do anything. It's a struggle to get on his feet, pack up camp, and move on to the next contract. It's worse in the winter, despite Vesemir and his brothers' best attempts. There's not enough to distract himself within the keep, not enough to draw attention away from the deep void of _emptiness_ that sits where he thinks his heart should be.

The mages and adults had always said he was too soft-hearted to be a witcher. They were right.

It started that first year on the Path with the girl who he saved from being raped. It grew with every interaction. Unlike most witchers, he was so obviously not human. White hair that practically shined unless there was a layer of grime on it, yellow eyes that were more a glowing gold than a witcher's yellow, and the aura around him that just made people aware of how _creature_ he is. Being special, _different_ , had never done him any good. It got him abandoned by his mother at five, put through the trials twice, extra mutations besides the trials, and ostracized from even his own kind. He should have known better than to think humans would treat him any better.

He floated from contract to contract, getting the job done, skimped on the coin, and stoned for his troubles. It was a limbo he couldn't remember living without. He had more scars than other witchers his age; more than some who were older too. He wasn't sure if it was the extra mutations or the emptiness that lessened the physical pain he felt and dulled the fight or flight instinct. He knew it worried the only three people who ever cared about him, but there wasn't anything left in him to try and fix it.

They always said he was too soft-hearted. They weren't right anymore; it no longer exists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Geralt's not a happy boy, and he won't be for a while. I will dig into certain events more in future chapters; this is just a basic introduction that takes place before the show. If you want me to dig into specific scenes, let me know, and I'll make a chapter for it. Also, there likely won't be a particular timeline because his depressive episodes are based around my own. I get hit with an episode, and the focus can be anything from two days ago to five years ago to ten hours ago. Updates are going to be irregular mostly because I'm just bad at them. Most of my knowledge comes from the Netflix series, but I am working my way through the books.
> 
> The title is taken from The Song of the White Wolf from the Netflix soundtrack.
> 
> (If anyone has any suggestions for tags, let me know, I usually forget to add them after I initially post the work and I don't think of them all off the top of my head.)


	2. I saw new eyes were watching me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had never been intended for his mother

He remembered his mother. Her dark red hair and green eyes, the freckles that splashed her face and shoulders. Her kind words and gentle hands for her patients. She was a druid healer named Visenna; she was a good woman to all those around her. Just not him.

Visenna wasn’t cruel, but she wasn’t kind either. She kept him fed, clothed, and sheltered. She taught him how to use his magic, healing humans and animals, growing the plants around him, and creating shields. He was good at it, too, picking up fast what other children had issues mastering. He had a lot of magic for a boy his age, and he loved learning more about it. He asked many questions about why things worked this way or that way, if other ways existed. Visenna answered patiently but with an edge not heard with anyone else. That was fine, though. He could learn some of it on his own in the forests and with animals. He learned to ask questions only when he couldn’t figure it out on his own.

She also said his heart is too soft, that he would need to harden it for what came.

He didn’t think he’d need to; he had her and nature. He was wrong.

The day she left him at the base of the mountains was the day he realized that. He called her for hours, running through the forest and using his magic to track her. Nothing worked, she never came back for him. Instead, a man with gray hair came up to him and asked his name.

“I don’t have one.”

The man looked very sad, “Would you like one?”

He shrugged, he was seven and never had a name, did it matter at this point?

“How about Geralt? Do you like that?”

Rolling it around in his head and trying it out aloud, he nodded. He had a name now.

“What’s your name?”

“My name is Vesemir, and you are my Child Surprise.”

Geralt knew what that meant from his lessons — intended for Vesemir and not his mother. Maybe that was why she had been so cold towards him. 

“What do you do?”

Vesemir looked pained now, did he not want Geralt? Then why give him a name? “I am a witcher, and when someone can’t pay, we call for the Law of Surprise. Child Surprises become witchers.”

Oh. Then that’s what Geralt would be. Witchers saved people, killed monsters that hunted innocents, and ate them. He can prove he is worth something to someone. He can do this. “Ok.”

Geralt watched Vesemir close his eyes and listened to him sigh deeply. Had he expected a different answer? Why? He had to be useful to be worth anything to people. He had been good at learning his magic; he could be good at this too. 

“Very well. Come, Geralt, I’ll take you to Kaer Morhen, where you will become a Witcher of the Wolf School.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More whump! Not that it should be that much of a surprise. I enjoy digging into the traumas of fictional characters and this man has so much potential. I plan on digging more into the relationship between Geralt and Visenna at a later date but for now, this is where I want to leave it for him being left for Vesemir to find.
> 
> Title taken from In the Woods Somewhere by Hozier


	3. So Show Me Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt get used to life as a witcher-in-training

The training was hard. It was rough and left little room for Geralt to relax. But that was ok. He’s doing well, and the instructors seem pleased. Swordplay was the hardest for him to learn, but he had enough experience in potion making, tracking, healing, and had enough knowledge of some creatures that the lore classes weren’t too hard. 

His favorite place was the library. In there, he could learn all he wanted and ask as many questions as he wanted without reprimand. Sure he got a couple raised eyebrows and the like, but nobody made a big deal about it. Geralt was absorbing information like a sponge, and Killian, the library keeper, thought he was a bright lad. Killian let him into the library whenever Geralt wanted to be there, and if there wasn’t training. Killian was probably Geralt’s favorite adult besides Vesemir.

Vesemir had been very kind to Geralt, even if he couldn’t find the man very often. Kaer Morhen was Big, and Geralt was a small child with little free time on his hands. That made actively looking for Vesemir a little tricky. That was fine though, Geralt always made up for it when they had time together. Well, time outside of sword training since Vesemir was the instructor.

Time went on, and while Geralt never forgot his mother, the stinging pain became less painful. He had new friends now, Eskel being his closest. The boy was a bit older than he was but had arrived at the keep sooner than Geralt. He helped the younger boy with subjects that he had trouble with or acted as his training partner more often than not. In return for the kindness Eskel showed him, Geralt showed him the tiny passages he found during his exploring.

The passages were small, and the two boys would likely only be able to fit for another couple of years until they were too big. So Geralt planned on making the most of the time they had. They weren’t supposed to leave the keep unless it was with an instructor, but so long as the instructors missed them, no harm, no foul. Geralt was good at using his magic to mask scents, too, having practiced it plenty before sneaking out. In the outdoors, Geralt felt much more at home in the greenery of the forest around them. He could feel the life of the trees and animals, the wind through his hair. He loved it. He missed it. But this way, he could show Eskel his magic, teach him how to track animals accurately, and kill them with as little pain to the animal as possible. They helped living creatures live, the least the predator could do is make sure they don’t suffer more than they had to.

He honed his magic and learned more offensive spells than his mother taught him, needing them in his repertoire as a monster hunter. He did this on his own, though; he didn’t want to hurt Eskel with rouge magic. He was thankful for the fact his magic was wilder than most druids. It had put his mother at a loss, but it made combat magic easier for him to learn. All he needed were the books in the library and a little bit of elbow grease.

Years passed by, and before Geralt knew it, he was 15, and it was almost time for the trials. With his magic, he had outstripped his peers in the magic signs they taught except for Eskel. Eskel was just as strong as Geralt with the witcher signs, so they often got paired up for sparring matches. However, he was on par with most of them for swordplay and other types of combat. Geralt also read most of the books in the library, and Killian was gagging at the bit for Geralt to become his apprentice. The keeper often used Geralt’s free time to show him more about the library and how to organize it. Geralt didn’t mind, but he’d prefer to use the spare time to practice more of his magic. Being in the keep so often wore at his connection to the natural world that he got the energy to use his magic from. Without escaping into the wild nature around the keep, Geralt could feel the lethargy catching up after a week. Eskel, the only one who knew, helped look for other ways to escape the fortress once they got too big for the passages they used to use. It had paid off; they now had ways to get out even once they were fully grown adults. Though, they wouldn’t need permission then.

Geralt still remembered the time Eskel discovered that little tidbit. Two and a half weeks had passed since the last time Geralt had gone outside, and he looked a mess. His skin, usually tan, had started looking sickly, and his face often switched between flush and pale. Geralt got weaker and fell behind the other kids in any of the physical courses. Eskel only noticed after Geralt, who always kept up with him, lost every sparring round for three days. Two weeks had passed by then, and it took another half a week for Eskel to find a passage big enough for them. 

“You scared the shit out of me, never do that again.” Eskel had jabbed a finger at Geralt’s chest after sitting in the forest for two hours meditating.

Geralt ducked his head, “I was going to be fine.”

“Sure.” Eskel snorted. Then he sighed, “Geralt, you’re my brother, don’t make me suffer needlessly. I’m here to help, that’s what brothers do.”

“Alright.” 

Geralt promised his brother he would ask for help more often, and he did. Even if only to never see the worry that crossed his frie-brother’s face again. He didn’t want ever to be the cause of that worry.

Thankfully, after the finding of that tunnel, Geralt never had those issues again. The only problem was that now he had to sneak out more often as his magic usage increased. As a kid, he didn’t use it often, and the passive absorption of nature energy was enough. It wasn’t anymore. Geralt had to pull the energy actively by meditating for an hour or two, longer if he pushed himself too much in training. He wasn’t sure if the older witchers knew but never said anything or had no idea of his activities. It didn’t matter, he got out, recharged, and continued to do what they demanded of him.

But now, they were close to the trials. Most of them would soon be dead, and those who survived would train for two more years before being sent off as fully-fledged witchers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay? Not as sad as the last two chapters, right?
> 
> Title from Ho Hey by the Lumineers


End file.
